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Expedition to Castle Ravenloft - IC thread


Corvinus

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Across the land winter is setting in. A meagre harvest following a dry autumn has tempered spirits somewhat in the midlands, but most households have just than to see them through winter, and the coastal regions were more fortunate in this regard, so come spring merchants will happily correct this imbalance, to the benefits of their own purses of course. Sating the greed of tradesmen however is a distant concern, for now there is the hibernal solstice to prepare for. In Longras, the western reaches of the Chakundi Kingdom, and the few settlements in the Kalkundor Marshes the children are excited for the black-toothed krampus chase this event will bring. To the east and all along the Shining Coast the victories and pains of the Changing God are celebrated. In Thelbun the preferred festival is Noxilov, a masked dance and feast in honour of the Unseelie Court of Winter, who will rule the land until the snowmelt in spring, whilst in the north households wonder if the will be visited by Lady Murn. The traveller-come-mage-come-warrior-come-trickster wanders the land in disguise, her mithril spear a staff of oak, her adamantine blade an eating knife, the sack of treasure, a simple sack. Generous hospitality in this period will be repaid with wealth and good fortune in the months to come.

Between Fort Perith and the Chakundi capital Firspra, the village of Hythe has an extra reason to feel festive: a tribe of ogres that were threatening the small community is no more. Half were cut down by blade and magic, the remaining fled. They could return, but the nomadic brutes favour survival over revenge, and it is far more likely they will not return to these parts for a generation at least. For now, the heroes of Hythe enjoy the village's hospitality. Short on coin the grateful folk were more than happy to arrange for them to stay at the settlement's lone inn, the Rooster and the Kitten. An early snowstorm has blanketed the mountainside in white. It is unlikely to snow again soon, but this high up it won't be melting until spring either, so for a few days travel will be slow until the boots and wheels of the more determined pilgrims force the snowy roads to settle. One midday, scarcely three weeks before the hibernal solstice, one such traveller approached Hythe. She had followed the stories of the heroes, and carried with her a letter for two of them: Andur Estevan and Mirian Evenwood. The messenger is brazen and rude, making a scene with the heroes that soon replaces the ogres defeat as the story on everyone’s lips. It turns out she is Ludovika of the Vistani, and she knew Andur and Miri from her previous wanderings.

The trio departs the next day, carrying a sack of russet apples, two small sweet loafs and what silver could be scraped together by the villagers. The snow begins to melt as the group descends from the mountain and joins the Sound Trade Road, but after one day there is a detour towards Leegate. In this ramshackle lakeside town in a shabby tavern, Ludovika finds the recipient of the third and final letter: a assassin known by the name of Silver Arrow, famed not just for her skill but also for her reputation of only accepting contract on those she deems evil. She too is known to Andur and Miri by her real name (though how accuratly they remember it is another matter): Ela'nyya Aefnee'al. All three of them feature in popular stories of heroes who fight injustices, and sometimes they even teamup. They face great peril, always outnumbered, the underdogs, yet always prevail. Between the three of them it is a wonder evil still exists, if the stories told about them are anything to go by.

Back on the road, the group of four now resume the route heading east towards Valmeki and eventually the Balvan Straits, though they will veer north towards the Jireli Mountains long before then. After a week on the road, the group arrives at The Rat King's Tavern, where Ludovika is staying. Situated on the side of a relatively well used trade road, the place is doing fine for itself. A large common room, a generously stoked fire, good selection of ales to accompany the rich, meaty stew served every dinner. At 12 silver a night, rooms are expensive, but for just 4 bronze one can sleep on the common room floor, though that typically entails a struggle with the other patrons for a spot near the fireplace. During their stay, the heroes are recognized by the travelling merchants and craftsmen enjoying a mug of dark, stout beer at a table. Andur is asked if he still carries that pitchfork around with him, whilst Miri is offered two silver by a young dwarf accompanied by two guards. He explains that he is going to the great city of Gjantur Beig, where there are no poor people, but he knows not everywhere is so blessed. He asks that if she meets a beggar or other destitute she give them one of the silver coins. An elf high-born elf, who mistakes Ela'nyya his kin thanks to her sleek, white hair, asks if she can could pin a coin to the wall midflip. All also want to hear about their last adventure and other exploits.

Ludovika is the only one not recognized by anyone, or at least no one approaches her, perhaps another of her disguises would be, though a full day from Barovia still, the clientele of the Rat King may not be too familiar with the Vistani as a whole.

Early morning on the second day, six days before the midwinter solstice, a carriage shows up outside The Rat King's Tavern. The driver is a middle-aged human dressed in a battered travellers cloak and a wide brimmed hat. Reading from some parchment he announces that he is here to collect Miri Elenwood of Sune, Andir Estevan and Silver Arrow. He leads the group outside to a large carriage, pulled by two draft horses. The thing has seen better days, a fresh coat of grey paint unable to hide the many dents, but inside it is softly furnished with dark cushions. The driver notes, “Didn't know there'd be four of you. I was told three,” speaking with a light southern port accent, but he doesn’t argue against Ludovika accompanying the group, and the carriage can comfortably hold four.

The driver closes the door, checking it is secure, then takes his place at the front of the carriage, whipping the two horses into a slow, steady trot. Initially the route is still on a trade road and the going is easy, those who have never been in a carriage before need a short time to adjust, but soon the gently rocking is hardly noticeable. Two hours in however the four adventurers feel a shift as a sharp turn is taken, the trade road is left behind. Now the road becomes narrower, marked with holes and gashes in the packed earth. Without drainage ditches, the wheels splash through puddles from rainfall several days old. The landscape changes too, albeit a little slower: it becomes more rugged, the grass first thicker, then sparse tuffs which give way to tress: tall and pointed pines and thick oaks. The plains you travel over remain flat, but whereas once there were hills in the distance, they are now replaced with steep mountain slopes, reaching up far into the clear sky, the blue become darker as the hours slip by. The borders to the barony of Barovia are marked unofficially by the Svalich woods on the south and eastern side, unofficial in that no one dares enter even the fringes of the tree line. It is getting dark, and soon the towering, moss covered trunks flank you on both sides, forming a living labyrinth, a foreign land cut off from the surrounding people and their customs. Weeds snow sprout across the path, the edges have eroded, merging in some places with the forest floor. Ten minutes later, the carriage reaches a huge stone arch, between which a set of rusty iron bars forms a gate, in front of which are two headless guardians, crumbling statues of soldiers with wicked polerarms set against a charge, the stone of their necks uneven, worn down in particular at the edges.

Abruptly the gates swing open, and the coach stops, “I was told to take you only to the gates, no further,” the driver explains, his nervous face making it clear he feels this is already far enough. He hops down from his perch to inspect his prize, making a brief deal of the creaking sound he claims to have been hearing for the last hour, and musing aloud if the wheel would need mending. However his heart isn't in it, perhaps he was doing simply as a formality at the end of the journey. What he wants more than anything is to leave, and the group watch him attempt to manoeuvre the cumbersome coach around on the narrow path, with little success. The wood is getting to him, the trees are rather thick, especially for a forest with a path through it. Wishing no further delays to his departure, the driver unhitches the horses from the front and leads them back, barely pausing to check they are secured before leading them off, bidding the group good luck in these “strange lands” over his shoulder.

With no other choice the adventurers continue on down the road by foot. The air is becoming stilled, and a mist begins to rise from the earth. It starts among the tress, hugging the trunks and swallowing their needle crowns, and soon wafts onto the path, cutting range of sight in half. When the group is a way down the road, they hear a stuttering scrap and turn to see the gates close, as mysteriously as they opened, before they are swallowed up by the billowing, white clouds. Without the safety of the carriage, the trees seem even closer, and they cannot be sure what is hiding in the mist. Ludovika has walked here before, and is reasonable certain this stretch of the woods are safe. As the group regional guide, she leads along the path, with Andur following in second. Katarina has heard stories of how the undead favour this land, and keeps a hand close to her weapons.

Even by day there was a slight chill, and with night, and maybe the mist as well, the cold is borrowing into everyone's flesh. The idea of reaching the village, where hopefully a warm bath, food, maybe a mug of ale can be acquired is a welcome drive, but of course it is not be. A mile after the gate, the adventurers exit the Svalich Woods, and there is the town, choked with mist, but otherwise still. It not that late, barely an hour after nightfall, there should be people awake, and this absence puzzles even Ludovika. Towards the edge the town seems abandoned even, the houses empty and starting to show neglect, some windows boarded up. The only indication of life is a flickering fire from what you presume to be the village square, directly ahead on the far side of the settlement. Ludovika may not know what is going on, but she is familiar enough with the basic layout of the village: in the village square they will find the village tavern, Blood on the Vine, whilst to the left Barovia’s grandest and tallest house stands, at least 3 stories, where the burgomaster and his family reside, with the small church overlooks the houses from its hilltop perch on the right, run by the old priest Danovitch. As the group plots their move, the wind shifts towards them, the breeze carries the subtle scent of carrion upon it.
 

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Andur Estevan, The Unwilling Hero, Tag: (Re)Introduction, Mood: Jovial, but cautious

*Andur had actually denied any reward in silver from those villagers, and given a stern look towards Ludovika on that same instance.. He was quite happy restocking his traveling provisions, however.
He also doesn't mind the snug fit within the coach for four, three of them beautiful ladies, although he pretends to read in his highly complicated arcane research notes for most of the travel.
On their way to and past the svalich woods, in the dark no less, he looked outside, pretending hard to not be a little worried.. what if there were a hungry pack of wolves.. he could likely deal with them, sure.. but still!

So well versed in hiding his -natural survival instinct- is Aldur, that he does not startle when the gates swing open, instead confirming with the coacher: "'t will be far and fine enough, thanks good man." .. he was not too keen on the prospect of walking the rest here...

"Are all parts of your homelands so.. colorful, Ludo?" He inquired, just before those gates closed... propably just some ancient magic still upon them.. yeah... He'd be keeping sharp eyes upon the fog-covered forest around them. It would be peaceful, if it wasn't so bloody creepy.

Still, they make it past in relative peace, to arrive at a village Andur could not describe more benevolently than 'dreary'. They enter what seems to be a mostly abandoned village, and Andur casts a glance towards Ludovika, to ask if this is normal, well, until the scent hits his nose.

"..There's something very wrong here. The letter invites us to the Burgeomasters mansion, but can you smell this?" He took a few steps fowards, towards the village. "Mirri, can you light up your lantern?"
He asked, for entirely selfless reasons.. 't was dark and dangerous, after all...

"Give me a moment please..."
He requested.. then, Andur leaned down, examining the road towards the town and surrounding undergrowth upon the ground. He was looking for the .. hopefully.. supposedly present human footprints there, or worse, any signs of who was in this village.. humans.. or others. As the others had fought by his side before, they'd know him as a decent tracker, or perhaps one more decent than the average human should be, he had a knack for finding the right thing in the right moment..

And, it seemed, he had found something, his eyes narrowed as he back-tracked a little, before he shared with his companions: "I don't like this.. two horses.. many people.. but it looked as if they were running.. here.." He indicated what looked like a patch of slightly disturbed grass. "They stopped, looked back.. almost as if someone, something was chasing them..." He suggested, before looking up at the others.. the elf-woman was likely angrily glaring at him again for stepping on what was normally elven turf... geesh, he'd never get to ...
Well this wasn't the time for such thoughts. He drew his longsword, before glancing over into the village.

"We should advance with swift caution."
Then, unless anyone held him back, he would take the lead, walking towards the village-square, longsword in one hand...

(Survival skill check to check for signs of monsters being near or somesuch.. nat 20, 21 total!)
(For the Record, portent rolls: 3, 18)
 
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Miri Evenwood, the Helping Hand
HP: 38/38, AC 16 (Mage Armor), Passive Perception: 16
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Miri sniffed around, and then sighed.

She had smelled that before. Corpses, or undead. Or both. In all cases, innocent had died, and probably in vain.

"I guess we came a bit too late. Mage Armor."

She shivered when she heard Andur's suggestion. "Ghosts? Lets hope not. Lets hope not."

Still, she would lit the lantern she got. She had acquired her from an necromancer they had defeated in the past, and since she never carried weapons or shields, she was the best for holding it around. Everyone had agreed to give the lantern to her without a second thought.

Miri grabbed the rusty lantern that was hanging from her backpack, and with a flick of her finger she produced some fire to lit it up.

The lantern's light filled the area with a pale-green light. It would reveal any unseen entities. And more.

Without Miri knowing about it, the lantern contained the necromancers dying wish as a curse...and the pale-green light would turn her clothes ghostly and see-through, for everyones eyes but hers. Miri was totally unaware of the fact - but most would assume that she knew and just didn't care.

"Lets thread carefully." she warned the rest of her companions, standing naked in the middle.
 
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Ela.jpg












Ela'nyya Aefnee'al, The Silver Arrow

Ela was quick to remove her ornate Elven longbow from her back, a keepsake from her home she had upgraded on her journey, scanning the dreary town with her sapphire colored eyes. The town was making her feel a bit queasy just from being there, reminding her of her time in the seedier hideaways in the criminal underground, mixed with a cemetery.

"The atmosphere here is off putting . . ." Ela mentioned after taking a whiff of the unnatural scent.

Taking up the position at the rear when they advanced into the town Ela was graced with the sight of Miri's clothes fading away. Her cheeks erupted into a blush, but seeing how calm her companion was about it, she decided not to speak up about the lewd happenstance.

Isn't she cold like that? Ela mused to herself while keeping a watchful eye on the areas around them, ready to knock an arrow at any time should they be ambushed.

"I agree . . . let's not spend any more time than absolutely necessary out here" She replied to her companions before quieting down and holding up the rear with pink cheeks.
 
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Corvinus

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On guard the group proceeds into the mist shrouded streets of Barovia. Tall, looming shapes reveal themselves to be the buildings they saw from afar, hidden as the fog set in, now revealed once again, the windows boarded, broken, lightless. One home is even burned out, the fire taking the roof and eating the walls until pitch bubbled in the cracks, but they stay standing, a credit to the construction. Through the windows they see an empty home, every surface charred black. Nearby there are a few splashes of old blood. Andur examines the ground, noting the activity, and the four decide to head for the village square, as that is where they saw the only sign of life. Miri's lantern ensures there are no creatures hiding directly in front of them, but the lantern cannot pierce the mist.

Rotting garbage crunches under Andur's boots, the fog muffling sound as well. But they can hear things, there is life in this village, or movement at least. Creaking, shuffling, moaning. Up ahead is a crossroads, a capsized hey wagon in the centre, its content becoming mouldy in the damp air. To the side of the wagon, a humanoid steps forwards. They are dressed smartly for such hard times, a stained linen shirt and leather breeches, with boots that has lost their heels. Their movement clumsy, as if they were drunk. Or dead. The skin is seems tight across their frame, one arm hanging limbly to the side, wiggling a little too free at the elbow. A snarl catches the grounps attention next, a small wolf with matted, brown fur tinged black at the ears emerges from the fog bank on the other side, sniffing the air. Two pairs of eyes lock on Andur, one hungry, the other empty.

Combat map -

Initiative order:
Wolf - 6
Shambling one - 4
 

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Andur Estevan, The Unwilling Hero, Tag: Mirri, DM, Mood: Horny, then concerned. Ac: 18, Buffs: None, Initiative: 18

Andur knew the nature of Mirri's lantern. He had simply elected not to tell her about it. Because he appreciated it quite a lot.. there was something about her being dressed and that not yet that was just... well, for now, he couldn't focus on that, not in this situation.. although the things he could do to that little tease of a priestess, if only honor did not hold him...

It seemed the elf paid him little mind, distracted by Mirri like he was... well, either way, Andur in the lead, they'd make way towards the town.. "Just what happened here.." Andur mused, with narrowed eyes.. this atmosphere almost ruined the sight of the naked priestess by his side. Almost.
Andur doesn't like this.. naturally, those in the village could still be normal humans, just reduced in number, rebuilding, but they could also be..
He fights the urge to call out and attract undue attention to calm his own nervous heart.

The more he finds, the less he enjoys his findings. The debris on the street was one thing, but to have a wagon rot like this...
And the inhabitants of this town are even less welcoming than the town itself, which was an achievement all in itself. Andur exhaled. Well shit. Undead.. he hated fighting those creepy things, but now that he was here already, he couldn't exactly run.. he'd just pretend to be a hero, as he always did. His blade outstretched, he stepped forwards, to intercept the empty eyed creature.. without blocking the line of attack towards it for either of his companions. (Move action to G8.) "Fear not, your fate shall be avenged. Come creature, if you wish to find your due rest." Then, however, his sword outstretched, he focused not on the undead, but on the wolf. He never.. enjoyed hurting animals without need. He would certainly not enjoy being double-teamed here.. so instead, he reached into his sash.. petting the little crab sitting there, before reaching out, pulling forth a piece of dried meat, and tossing it to the wolves side, his tone shifting to be softer, nonhostile, as he declared, eyes fixated upon the lupine.
"We are not your enemies, wolf. Have this and be a good boy."

(Handle Animal check for 13, I presume pulling forth some food and checking the wolf consumes me free and standard action.)
 

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Miri Evenwood, the Helping Hand
HP: 38/38, AC 16 (Mage Armor), Passive Perception: 16
SP: 6 Spells: 1st Lvl: 2/4; 2nd Lvl: 3/3; 3rd Lvl: 3/3
Active Effects: Bless, Mage Armor
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
"Andur be careful...usually animals don't like undead. Something looks wrong." Miri cautioned Andur, before stepping forward herself.

It wasn't her first time fighting undead...while it was not good that someone had become undead, she prefered fighting them over living creatures. They didn't feel pain when they got hit, so it felt like they were helping them to lay to rest when they were killing them. Living creatures always felt bad to hurt, even if she had to.

Reaching a good position, she casted a blessing to her and her team.

"May the power of love hold your hearts strong, and guide you to win against any evil!"

She always liked this blessing, it always brought a nice loving feeling with it that made her heart beat faster.

[Initiative 14. Casts bless on Andur, Ela, and herself.]
 
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Andur moves forwards, noting the beast and the undead. The once human begins to slowly shuffle towards him, and in the mist ahead he can hear more moaning. The wolf however holds back. Bloody saliva drips from its open mouth, the fangs so large it seems like it would have difficulty closing its jaws properly. The fur around the muzzle is stained red, it has eaten recently, gorged. From the fog, a second creature emerges, standing by the first. They sniff at the morsel Andur threw to them, whining at each other. He recognizes the breed, renari wolves. A dying strain as their more successful, larger cousins have pushed them out of the forests and hills in most regions, and they are now more scavengers than hunters.

Miri moves up behind Andur, invoking her faith's blessing upon the three of them, her magic not able to reach Ludovika. Still holding the lantern, she sees the movement up on the building too late, a shape jump down, landing next to her, and suddenly she is staring at sharp teeth jutting from a jaw and a twitching, half-dead tongue, the smell of earthly rot assaulting her nostrils. This one is no zombie, it moves fast and fluid, but it is certainly one of the undead, the desiccated skin stretched taunt across bones and sinew, a sickly pale brown in colour. It wears a travellers robe, enough is left of the tattered embroidery at the edges to mark it as a foreign weave. They are caked in earth too, this one was buried until recently. As she absorbs this new information, she becomes aware of a sharp pain in her side, the creature struck so fast she didn't even notice the attack. Filth stained claws now drip with her blood, and she feels its lingering presence in the wound.

The creature jumps back, it is fast, and it hate filled eyes dart among the warm blooded creatures in front of it. It is on guard, and will be hard to hit.

The shambling, recently dead makes for Andur, but before it can cover the distance there is a breaking sound and with jerky movements a skeleton emerges from the mist. Quicker on its feat it makes for Andur, shedding dirt with every step. Sharp tipped fingers of bone lash out and Andur throws his shield up to intercept, but in doing to opens himself to a fist from the zombie, which connects solidly in his gut. Behind this him, another one emerges from the mist, this one older, more decayed.

The wolves move forwards, and snatched up the offered meet. They follow the fight with intelligent eyes, but do not involve themselves for now.


Combat map:

Initiative order:
Andur - 18, lightly injured
Miri - 14, lightly injured

Swift one - 9, unhurt, dodging
Ela - 7, unhurt
Ludovika - 6.5, unhurt

Wolves - 6, unhurt/unhurt
Shambling one - 4, damaged


You take 7 slashing damage from the attack. Make a constitution save.

You take 6 bludgeoning damage from the attack. Make a constitution save.
 
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Andur Estevan, The Unwilling Hero, Tag: Combat! Ac: 20, Buffs: Blessing 9/10, Rage 9/10 Initiative: 18 HP: 65/71 To the tune of:

"I am not sure how I should feel about the animals in this place." He noted, at the wolves.. hopefully the meat would occupy them... "Wait what?" He glanced back, motion and a clacking on the ground behind him catching his attention..
That was an undead, without doubt, but one that moved with purpose and targeted the enemy most dangerous to it, the one that could cast holy magic. This was bad.

Andurs hand shook ever so slightly, remembering a sunny field, an army of undead.. so many he recognized among them.. a haughty, overconfident undead, him lifting his scythe in one moment of rage-filled defiance.

And another undead, a skeleton this time, coming for them.. foolish undead!.. but his moment of shock at the advanced unded cost him dearly as, rarely as he is hit ordinarly, he uffs with the impact of an undead fist. .. and then, he exhaled, flexing his muscles and focusing (Entering rage.) "Pfew.. was that it? Give it another try." He taunted, lifting his shield and turning his back. He'd gotten in and out of worse trouble..somehow. He'd rather focus on the creature on Miri. (Move action, taking the Aoo's if I have to.)

"You don't want to be hit, is it?" Andur smirked at the more dangerous skeleton, extending a finger, with a subtle ticking noise emanating from the amulet around his neck, before he rushed foward, his blade cutting at the creature.. and it would have missed too, but just a small piece of trash and debris unbalanced the creature for one lucky moment for Andur, landing a strike, and smirking triumphantly, as spectral guardians appeared, or to be precise, they became more visible to the creature he had just struck, one grim ghostly guardian appearing by the elf, one by the nakedly appearing priestess side. Only to slap her bottom. As it was just a spirit, it didn't do anything.
Andur himself was uncertain if those spirits were aspects of himself, or if he just ended up calling men close to his heart.. or if those were his heroic futures, alternate timelines that could have happened if he'd been to fall in battle.. that version he liked the least.
But they were effective, even if one of them was now spookily, insubstantially nibbling on Ela's ear.. normally these ghostly spirits were invisible entirely, but Miri's lamp illuminated them more clearly. Hmnn.. he'd even share the girls with these apparitions, if he could. that'd be hot too, both of them sucking off his ghost-army...

He cleared his throat, focusing on the skeleton before him. "I notice you were trying to seperate and attack my friend. By all means.. do try to do so again." He smirked, before taking a step back, into the frame of a house behind him.. and then another step, taunting the skeleton creature. Andur knew that it'd struggle to attack either of the girls through his guardians, so he'd draw it after him, if it tried to pursue, whilest also ecuring a chokepoint. (rest of the move action, stepping into the doorframe,Moving to I10.)

"I recommend you ladies move back a little so the creatures can't reach you whilest I deal with this strange one!" He shouted. "Miri, how do you feel about a little area cleanup while at it?"

(19 to hit, 9 damage.)
 
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Miri Evenwood, the Helping Hand
HP: 31/38, AC 16 (Mage Armor), Passive Perception: 16
SP: 5/6 Spells: 1st Lvl: 2/4; 2nd Lvl: 3/3; 3rd Lvl: 2/3
Active Effects: Spirit Guardians, Mage Armor
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
"EHHH...." Miri cried, as the undead jumped next to her. Would it hurt to jump up from the ground like a normal zombie ought to do?

"Damn...cover me Andur..." she ignored the perverted spirits Andur had summoned, mostly because she had to distance herself from the ugly and scary undead.

Avoiding the creatures attack, she slipped past Andur inside the building, before casting an other spell.

"Guardian Spirits, protect us from the wicked ones!" Immediately countless spirits of fair and scantly dressed maidens filled the area...legend said they were past priestesses of Sune, who aided those who called them.

[Ofc I tell them not to attack our guys]

The spirits frolicked around, teasing Andurs summoned spirits who were eager to respond, and there were some very blushworthy ghostly sex scenes playing in the background...but the others danced around, passing through any enemy, and damaging with holy energy anyone who dared to approach or stand in their way.

[Bless spell breaks, spirit guardians, 21 radiant damage (empowered 1/4) ]
 
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As Miri and Andur shout strategy at each other, Ela'nyya takes aim with her bow at the shambling undead. Guided by her braces, the exceptionally well crafted bow she wields and her not inconsiderable skill honed over the years, she shoots the miserably thing through the throat. Against a living target that could easily have been a kill-shot, but the zombie does not draw breath, and so it feels the blow, its body shudders from the impact, but it does not fall. To further sour the mood, two more undead emerge from the fog, and fall upon Andur.

The human withdraws from the fray suffering a glancing blow to a shoulder he barely feels, wanting to help Miri against this faster, roof ambushing undead. A lucky strike marks it, bringing his spirits into the material plane, revealed by the sorceress's lantern light. She and Andur then duck into the nearest building, too fast for the undead, and she adds her own spirits to Andur's. Muscular males stand tall and proud alongside the more demur priestesses of Sune. The faster undead's mouth snaps open in a silent, tortured scream as the spirit's gentle touch flays its corrupted body, and it bolts for the fog, past Ela.
 

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Ela.jpg Ela'nyya Aefnee'al, The Silver Arrow

"I'm on my way!" Ela calls out as she runs forward, pausing halfway to aim her longbow again, letting loose an arrow at the injured shambling undead to try and finish it off, her eyes honed in on the creature.

After that she dashes into the building, scooting past Andur in the tight space, for a split second making their bodies grind against one another through their clothes.

Ela quickly takes a spot behind his left shoulder, pulling another arrow from her quiver and looking out towards the small horde of undead.

"We should finish this quickly, I don't Like Being Cornered like rats" Ela says as she glances to her two companions in the building, also looking for possible escape routes through windows and such.

(24 to hit. 11 Damage)
 
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In the midst of slashing claws weapons and magic, Ludovika has somehow gone missing, slipping away into the fog, or perhaps dragged away yet another, even stealthier undead? Surely not, the girl can handle herself, especially on home terrain.

Ela takes aim at injured undead, striking it in the chest. The arrow breaks ribs but misses the spine, the thing still stands. Without waiting to see how it reacts, the nimble elf darts amid the spiritual priestess's, past Andur into the building.

The undead approach, then recoils when the magic effects them. The skeleton almost makes it to Andur, but backs away before reaching him, its very bones withering. The injured zombie collapses, it body cleansed the soul granted rest, and the third one recoils from the soft, holy touch. They are mindless, but even they can comprehend the danger the spirits pose. The wolves shuffle, yapping a wet bark. They do not even approach the spirits, but nor do they flee, still watching the fight unfold.

From beneath their feet and within the walls, the groups hear a frantic scuttling and the occasional frenzied squeak. Rats, being torn apart from the indiscriminate spirits.
 

Pervy

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Andur Estevan, The Unwilling Hero, Tag: Combat! Ac: 20, Buffs: Blessing 8/10, Rage 8/10 Initiative: 18 HP: 63/71 Current Theme:

The zombie staggering away from the saintly light would not go unpunished by Aldur's blade, him smirking slightly at the teamwork sucess with Miri.

Andur's spirit took the opportunity of the undead retreating to flex sensually at the Sune-priestesses.. although they would not discriminate and flex at Ela and Miri too, given the opportunity. Of course, the more welcoming maiden spirits that were not occupied rat and or undead catching were quite happily seduced by Andurs guardians... "These are not the usual undead.. I sense the hand of a foul necromancer among them." Andur declared, more controlled himself. "The skeleton aside, I don't think this one should still be standing after your assault.

I fear there are more undead here, and as much as I would love to cleanse them, Ela's right, we should make our way to a more secure position.. and get some answers as to where these undead come from. I've fought their kind in the past, we need to strike at the one responsible for their unrest. The Burgeomaster calles us here, I think I saw his mansion leftside, I will lead, take the skeleton."

He quickly elaborated, with the undead recoiling, before moving out of the house's shelter, trusting Miri to follow up as he advanced upon the skeleton.. even if his sword could not cut through bounce, just its impact should stagger the undead. After his strike, he'd quickly lift his shield, eyeing the other undying one and the wolves of questionable loyalty right by his side, his spirits now gazing down upon the skeleton if he had managed to strike it.

Using Reckless attack against skelly, hitting on a 17, for 7 damage.
 
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Aenon

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Miri Evenwood, the Helping Hand
HP: 38/38, AC 16 (Mage Armor), Passive Perception: 16
SP: 6 Spells: 1st Lvl: 2/4; 2nd Lvl: 3/3; 3rd Lvl: 3/3
Active Effects: Bless, Mage Armor
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"No, wait, don't go out alone!" Miri cried, worried that Andur would get overwhelmed by the undead hordes...even if he always somehow managed to survive even in the worst situations.

"Fire to strike down our enemies!" she called, producing a ball of fire, which she then threw towards the skeleton. It wasn't a physical throw, so the firebolt went in a straight line led by her magic, striking the skeleton straight at his chest.

She then bravely marched out of the safety of the building, standing behind Andur.

"Andur, I have your back!" she cried, as the ghostly maidens attacked their new targets.

[25 Attack 17 damage firebolt, 14 radiant damage spirit guardians]
 
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Corvinus

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Andur's blade slices dead flesh and bone, but he cannot fell the undead creature, only keep them in check. The task of finishing them falls to Miri, who marches out of the single room and throws a spear of fire at the skeleton, charring its ribcage and shoulder. The spirits finish the task, descending upon the undead, stripping the elemental life force from their tortured forms. The wolves are also caught in area, and one perished with a strangled whelp, the presence of the divine too much for its small form. The other, injured but still alieve bolts down the corridor.

Ela can now likewise merges, though she need not hurry, the noise of the rats are gone. No door leads further into the building, this must have served as a storage room, or perhaps a street-side store front? Time for that later. Back on the street the mist still roils around them, the village still creaks, and the scent of carrion is just as strong, but no undead seem to be moving, not close by at least.

And where is that damned Ludovika?
 

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Miri Evenwood, the Helping Hand
HP: 31/38, AC 16 (Mage Armor), Passive Perception: 16
SP: 5/6 Spells: 1st Lvl: 2/4; 2nd Lvl: 3/3; 3rd Lvl: 2/3
Active Effects: Spirit Guardians, Mage Armor
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"Lets rush to the burgomaster's house while the spirits still guard us...Andur take the lead, I would hate the spirits to attack the burgomaster by mistake..."

Miri would then run after Andur, leaving some safe distance to stop in time if needed, but still keeping Andur within the company of the ghostly companions.

[The Spirit Guardians last 10 mins so Miri will keep it up, hoping it will help them later]
 

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Andur Estevan, The Unwilling Hero, Tag: Combat! Ac: 20, Buffs: -- Initiative: 18 HP: 63/71

"I agree. But beware, if the Burgeomasters mansion still holds life, that might also mean the undead crowding around there.. if it does not, we need to find better shelter. Also, whatever you do, stay away from the church... because that's where graveyards also are. If we get seperated leave the village and meet again at the forest entrance." Andur dictated, because someone had to. He didn't like this one bit, these undead were toughter and more cunning than the usual lot... sure they did little damage on him, but he'd rather not fight a dozen of these things.

Andur would take the lead, 5-10 ft ahead of the others, making his way down lefthand, to the straightest path to the Burgeomasters mansion he remembered, not running, but making haste nonetheless.
 

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Ela.jpg
Ela'nyya Aefnee'al, The Silver Arrow

"I agree, the Burgomaster's house makes the most sense" Ela replies to her two companions as she exits the home and follows the others.

Ela would hold up the rear, 10 feet behind Miri and keeping her eyes out for other threats as the party moves through the gloomy mist covered streets.
 
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Corvinus

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The tactical discussion is brief, the chilly night air and general atmosphere not lending themselves to extended discourse. With Miri's spirits lingering for now, the group decides to chance the village square on the way to the Burgomaster's house, as if they do run into more undead now would be a good time to fight them, with the help of the past priestesses of Sune.

Andur in the lead, the group moves cautiously. Amid the rubbish strewn across the street, a corpse becomes visible. Limbs gone, half the body torn away, the discoloured face....chewed on. The woman was in life a typically villager, if her rough spun clothing is anything to go by, and has been dead for a week or so. No other corpses are visible, and whilst the creaking and distant groans never quite goes away, they do not get any louder either. Several times Andur and the others, especially Ela with her sharp eyes, are sure they spy small, quick movement through a broken door or partially boarded window, but they leave it alone and it returns the favour.

They have been walking for but two minutes when more corpses become visible through the mist, these ones more intact, and studded with arrows. The rubbish takes on a more lethal look, stones and rusting horseshoes bound together, whilst one even has a hole burned through its chest where its heart should have been. The fog curtain parts, enough to reveal a barricade of packed wood: furniture, doors, the dismantled parts of a wagon, assembled with skill to present a tough slope attackers must assail to reach the square.

“Spirits! Spirits of the damned!” a panicked voice shouts from behind the barricade, followed by enough, equally frantic. “Ashlyn! ASHLYN! Cursed shrouds come! What do we do?”
 
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